


Drawn Together

by GayApril16



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Castiel and Dean Winchester Have a Profound Bond, Castiel's Nickname is Cas (Supernatural), Dean Winchester Has a Sexuality Crisis, Destiel - Freeform, First Kiss, Gay Castiel (Supernatural), Highschool AU, Homophobic John Winchester, Love at First Sight, M/M, No Smut, Soulmates, human!Cas, john winchester is a terrible father
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-03
Updated: 2020-05-03
Packaged: 2021-03-01 23:26:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,729
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23975224
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GayApril16/pseuds/GayApril16
Summary: Once again, Dean is the new kid at his school. All goes as expected until Dean lays eyes on a boy with the most brilliant blue eyes, and a magical chain reaction is triggered inside both of them.Destiel Highschool AU
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 4
Kudos: 72





	Drawn Together

**Author's Note:**

> I have no beta, so please excuse any typos.  
> 😊

Dean swaggered through the cafeteria, trying to seem as if he didn’t have a care in the world. His stomach pinched uncomfortably at the various lunches spread across the tables, but it was a sensation he’d long since learned to ignore. He wasn’t quite sure where he was going or what he was looking for; he didn't have a lunch, and once again, he was the new kid. But this time he was at the bottom again—Freshman year—which made him a baby high schooler. The thought twisted his face into a scowl.

“What’s _your_ problem?” someone asked. Dean glanced over to see a slender blonde girl about his age staring up at him, twisting around in her seat. Cute, Dean figured.

“Leave him alone, Shay,” a startlingly deep voice spoke up. Dean’s attention switched over to the boy, and he froze.

He was _beautiful_. Brilliant blue eyes looked up from under a mop of wind-blown, raven-dark hair that somehow managed to not fall in his face. And those cheekbones . . .

Something sparked in Dean's chest.

Mentally, Dean reared back, startled. He was a _boy_ —Dean shouldn’t be thinking like this. A thousand scathing remarks rose in his mind, all his father’s words. Dean's throat tightened, and to cover his panic he called on his anger, an unfortunately reflexive defense.

“I don’t need your help,” Dean spat, his response coming a mere second after the boy finished his sentence.

The boy’s eyebrows rose, but Dean barely noticed as he stormed away. His mind was reeling, confusion twisting in his chest. What just happened?

*****

Cas stared after the boy, dumbfounded. 

“Well,” another boy—Gavin, Cas didn’t really know him that well—said dryly, “he’s nice.”

Cas shifted in his seat. The boy’s anger had startled him, but he hadn’t really focused on the words, instead distracted by the boy’s appearance. He’d been, well, _eye candy_ was a phrase he’d heard his sisters use. The broad shoulders, his sandy hair, his _lips_ —Cas felt his cheeks redden as a stupid fantasy flashed through his mind. But what had been most memorable was the boy’s eyes. A sharp, bright green that Cas had never seen anywhere else—and were more unreadable than any other eyes Cas had had ever seen. He frowned down at the table. He prided himself in being able to identify a person’s character by their eyes—the supposed windows to the soul—but on this boy, he’d gotten _nothing_. There was some type of barrier—a wall—that was somehow keeping anything from showing.

“Cas?” Shay prompted. 

Cas’ head snapped up. “Yes?” he asked, acutely aware that he’d missed something.

Shay rolled her eyes. “As I was saying . . .” She continued her rant about whatever topic she’d chosen that day—the scientific studies on the rarity of soulmates, Cas thought, but he wasn’t sure—with the others chiming in with their comments. Cas nodded along but he wasn’t really listening, his mind wandering back to the boy with the walled eyes. Unconsciously, he rubbed the center of his chest, where he could've sworn he'd been shocked just as the boy had come into view.

*****

Two weeks later, Dean wasn’t any less confused, but his initial shock had hardened into a razor-sharp shard of shame that buried itself a little further into his chest every time he glimpsed the stunning boy. The boy’s name was Castiel Novak, Dean had managed to glean from others’ conversations, though he went by Cas. 

_Cas_. The name felt right on Dean’s tongue, which scared him even more. He didn’t know what in the world was happening, but with his father’s words echoing in his mind he was sure it wasn’t anything good. 

That fear came to a head when he actually spoke with Castiel for the first time. Dean had dumped his unneeded textbooks in his locker, and as he’d turned to leave he’d yelped. The boy was standing right in front of him.

“What do you want?” Dean demanded, perhaps a bit harsher than he’d meant to. Something stirred in his chest, flooding his body with an unfamiliar feeling.

The boy’s eyebrows lifted slightly, but he simply stuck out his hand. “Cas Novak.”

“Dean Winchester,” Dean grunted, forcibly keeping his arm at his side even though his muscles seemed to be screaming at him to accept the shake. When he didn’t take Cas’ hand the boy lowered it, tucking it in his pocket to match the other one.

“You’re new, right?” Cas asked easily.

“Why do _you_ care?” Inwardly, Dean flinched. He sounded like a major jerk.

Cas seemed to reflect the same thought, his eyes darkening slightly. But he didn’t leave, instead just cocking his head to one side, his eyes locked with Dean’s.

Dean felt heat creep up the back of his neck, because Cas looked ridiculously— _adorably_ —cute. Along with the head-cant, which made his dark hair look even more fluffy, the dark blue sweater he was wearing made the brightness of his eyes even more stunning.

The feelings in Dean's chest flared and he growled, a deep noise that came from the back of his throat. He moved to walk around Cas, but Cas reached for his arm.

“Wait—”

Before Dean even knew what he was doing he’d slammed Cas against the lockers, one arm pressing against the fabric on his chest. Cas’ eyes had gone wide. 

“Don’t,” Dean growled. Then, with massive effort, he backed away, practically running to his next class. He collapsed in his seat, burying his face in his arms. Dean had wanted— _still_ wanted, badly—to _kiss him_.

*****

Cas still had his back against the lockers, the cold metal a stark contrast to the ribbon of warmth that snaked across his chest where Dean’s arm had pressed into him. He was shaking—not badly, but noticeably enough—and he was gulping in his breaths.

“Cas, are you okay?” one of Cas’ friends asked. 

Cas didn’t respond, not even taking note of who was speaking. His mind was whirling, still trying to make sense of what had happened, because when Dean had pressed himself against him, Cas had wanted—he’d wanted _so desperately_ —for Dean to kiss him. But before anything could happen Dean had torn himself away. 

_Where did_ that _come from?_ Cas wondered, carding a hand through his hair. Dean _was_ seriously attractive, he wouldn’t deny that, but the want—no, the _need_ he’d felt was definitely not attraction. It was something . . . else. Something _more_. Something to do with the strange sensations that were twisting in his chest.

But he barely even _knew_ the guy, he’d met him like what, twice? If he could even count the less-than-a-minute interactions as meeting.

Cas stared in the direction Dean had disappeared. What was going on?

*****

Dean had gotten suspended. It was stupid, really—he’d gotten in a fistfight with some random guy who was being a jerk. That along with multiple eyewitness reports of him “assaulting” Cas had earned him a week of thinking-time. Dean supposed he should be disappointed in himself—he knew he’d be disappointed in Sammy if he had been the one in that situation—but honestly he didn’t really care. He was actually somewhat surprised that he hadn’t snapped earlier. _Whatever_ was happening with him and Cas was driving him insane, and he was losing more and more of his hold on his temper. 

Dean’s face was buried in his ratty motel pillow. It had to be around noon, but after Sam had gone to school Dean had found himself with nothing to do. He could try shooting pool to earn a little bit of extra cash, he supposed, but he wasn’t in the mood. He wasn’t in the mood for anything, really, not with the storm in his chest.

He wasn’t sure what it was. Part of it was guilt or shame, which he knew—John’s voice in his head was an incessant reminder of how disgusting it was for him to look at Cas the way he had. But the rest of it seemed to be whatever was drawing him to Cas in the first place—want, _need_. It was like his body needed something, some type of oxygen that he didn’t have, and he was suffocating.

It was _infuriating_. Dean pulled his knees up to his chest, curling into a ball. The storm of need was hot and cold and powerful, an energy pulsing through every inch of his body. It didn’t hurt, exactly, but it was driving him insane—and it was only getting stronger.

Dean grumbled into his pillow, still curled in on himself. All he could think about was dark hair and blue eyes.

*****

Cas couldn’t focus. He couldn't focus on school, he couldn’t focus on friends, he couldn’t focus on fun. His friends and family were starting to get worried—his usual calm demeanor had been replaced by irritation and impatience. It was after he’d snapped rather harshly at his sister, Anna, when she’d simply reminded him about a chore he still needed to do did anyone try to figure out what was going on.

“Castiel, are you alright?” Michael, Cas’ oldest brother, had asked, venturing into Cas’ bedroom. Cas had his face buried in his arms, resting on the disaster of half-finished assignments that splayed across his desk.

Cas sat up, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands. “I’m fine.” 

It was a lie.

Michael hesitated. “Are you sure—”

“Yes! I’m _fine_ , Michael,” Cas snapped, He paused, taking a deep breath so as to even out his voice. “I’m just stressed,” he said, softer this time.

Cas couldn’t see him, but he could essentially feel Michael’s gaze boring into his back.

“Alright,” Michael finally said. He closed the door.

Cas sighed, dropping his head back into his arms. He definitely _wasn’t_ fine, but he didn’t know what was wrong. It felt like fire had spilled through his veins, except instead of burning it was _wanting_. _Needing_. Everything ached with the pain of something missing, centered with a bright desperation in the middle of Cas’ chest.

Cas groaned as the need flared, the heat intensifying, then muttered, “What. Is. _Happening_.”

He found his mind drifting to blonde hair and green eyes.

*****

Dean staggered into school late Monday morning. He probably looked like he was drunk, but with the storm raging through him it was hard to concentrate on anything else. He definitely wasn’t going to learn anything today, but he wasn’t here to learn. He was here on the off-chance of seeing Cas. Cas, who’s mesmerizing blue eyes and dark hair wouldn’t give him rest.

Dean had nearly made his way to his classroom, pausing to lean against the wall as his entire body ached. He was between one of the empty classrooms and a back entrance, and as he rested he heard the entrance doors creak open behind him.

Whoever it was must’ve tripped because Dean heard books and papers clatter to the ground, instantly followed by a thud and muttered swearing.

Everything in Dean’s chest surged. The voice was unnaturally familiar. He turned, blurting, “Cas?”

Cas was on hands and knees but his head snapped up.

“Dean,” he breathed. He staggered to his feet, swaying unsteadily.

Dean took a hesitant step towards him, then everything inside him blazed with a fury that made him softly cry out. Then he was pressed against Cas, his hands gripping Cas’ waist as Cas’ arms looped around his neck, their lips pressed together in a solid, desperate kiss.

There wasn’t room for thought. There was only fire, surging through their connection in a dance made of stars—and Dean could _feel_ Cas. Could feel his emotions, his presence, his very _essence_ pressed against him, and Cas could feel him too.

Eventually the storm calmed. There was still energy flowing between them but it was smoother, gentler. Dean could taste the mouth on his—spring water and paper—and he deepened the kiss, wrapping his arms around Cas’ back, pulling him tighter against him. Cas reciprocated, one of his hands snaking its way up into Dean’s hair.

The energy settled, glowing contentedly in Dean’s chest. He felt the same happen in Cas’, and slowly, carefully, he broke out of the kiss but didn’t pull away. They were both gasping, their foreheads pressed against each other’s, which is how Dean realized that Cas was nearly the same height as him.

“What’s happening?” Dean gasped softly.

“I have no idea,” Cas muttered, closing his eyes. Dean did the same, leaning against him. The energy in his chest seemed to almost . . . _hum_. As if it were happy to be close to the energy inside Cas.

Dean’s mind began to catch up to him, which he instantly regretted. He had just kissed— _passionately_ kissed an almost total stranger, who was a _boy_ , no less.

Cas shifted. Dean opened his eyes to find electric blue ones inches from his own. Neither of them moved, Dean’s arms still around Cas and Cas’ hand still in Dean’s hair. Cas’ eyes were flicking back and forth, focusing on each of Dean’s in turn.

“The wall is gone,” Cas murmured.

Dean blinked. “What?”

Cas didn’t respond, still seeming to search for something. Then he closed the gap between them, kissing Dean again.

It was . . . _different_ from before. Dean wasn’t sure if it was good different or bad different, but he enjoyed the gentle, chaste kiss. The energy in his chest seemed to purr, and a happy, contented feeling spread through the rest of Dean’s body, intermingling with Cas’ pleased energy where they touched.

Finally they broke away again. Cas’ hand slid from Dean’s hair to the back of his neck, sending tingles of pleasure through both their energies.

Dean decided he liked it. Who cares about what he had thought of his sexuality before?

Except . . . his father cared. Very much. 

A spike of anxiety tore through Dean’s chest.

Cas stiffened in Dean’s arms, his brow furrowing. “What will your father do?”

Dean opened his mouth to respond, then froze. “How did you . . . ?”

Confusion flashed across Cas’ face. “I don’t know. I just . . . well.” He cocked his head to one side, still looking puzzled. “I . . . _felt_ it.” 

The half-explanation didn’t clear anything up, so Dean closed his eyes. Almost in an imitation of Cas, he tilted his head. Listening. _Feeling_. After a moment, he realized he could hear—feel—sense?—Cas’ thoughts. It was an odd combination of images, emotions and words, flowing through Cas’ energy and easily accessed by Dean. It effectively painted a picture of what was going through Cas’ mind, and it felt . . . safe. Even though it was obvious that Cas was trying not to panic.

“Yeah, we should probably get to know each other a little better,” Dean agreed. Cas’ eyes widened a fraction when he realized that Dean had succeeded in reading his mind.

Reluctantly, Dean pulled away. They stood face-to-face, not touching. Dean crossed his arms over his chest. Being apart wasn’t _bad_ , per se; it was nothing like before. But he didn’t like the feeling it gave him versus when they were touching. He felt . . . unsettled. 

“So,” Dean said lamely, grasping at straws for what to say. He could still feel Cas, still feel their . . . _connection_. If he focused he could still read Cas’ thoughts, but he backed away from that, thinking that Cas wouldn’t want his thoughts invaded.

“Well, I’m kind of invading yours,” Cas muttered, his cheeks turning red.

Dean started. Oh. “Yeah, that’s probably something we need to discuss,” he said, uncomfortably scratching the back of his neck.

“Along with everything else.” Cas crosses his arms, almost mimicking Dean. Huh. Was that another 'thing'? Dean had mimicked Cas before, when he'd done the head-tilt that made Cas look freaking adorable.

Cas’ cheeks flamed. Dean grinned, then on impulse he darted forward and grabbed Cas’ hand, lacing their fingers together. They fit perfectly, and Dean felt a shiver of pleasure run through his energy at the touch, and noticed a pleased shiver mirrored in Cas’ as well. He pulled Cas into the empty classroom, sitting them down on the barren desks.

“So,” Dean said, twisting so he faced Cas. He didn’t let go of his hand. “What’re we gonna do?”

Cas shook his head, seemingly at a loss, but a smile was creeping onto his face.

**Author's Note:**

> What isn't really explained in the fic is that Cas and Dean are soulmates, and the magical bond that forms, while romantic, is not sexual. Physical contact of any sort (even hand-holding) is enough to satisfy the bond. While the initial formation of their bond did push them into kissing each other, that was the magic playing off their attraction to each other. To rephrase, attraction was their initial reaction when seeing each other because they are both very pretty people and even if Dean was in denial about it he is very bi, and that's what the magic grabbed on to and enhanced to initially push them together so the bond could be completed. Hope that makes sense. 🙃  
> Kudos are always appreciated, and please leave a comment if you'd like to see more/an extension with this particular AU!  
> ❤️


End file.
